Surviving in a new Reality
by LtBudget
Summary: One moment I'm on guard duty with my squad, the next I'm suddenly thrown into the Mass Effect Universe. With no way back, I try to survive in this foreign yet familiar galaxy. Starts 9 years before the events of ME 1 and will lead all the way to Eden Prime. Self-Insert. M for content.
1. Prologue Pt1

**Welcome to my brand new and, more importantly, first story on this site! I know that I'm a bit late to the party but after binge-reading several great other stories I decided to go ahead and write my own self-insert. Now I want to declare right away that I won't be using my real name, but other than that it's the real me. I will also change a few plot elements for realism. Nothing big, just a few small changes.  
**

 **Also, I WILL FINISH THIS STORY!**

 **I have seen many, MANY great stories on this site that have just been abandoned. I have also seen many stories being only updated every 6 months or so. I do not want my stuff to join them. So I hereby declare, at least 1 UPDATE EVERY 2 WEEK! Yes, I know, that's not that fast, but when possible I'll try to pump chapters out faster.**

 **Anyway, I'll quit rambling and without further to do, here we go!**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Mass Effect, nor any of its characters or content. I do however own some original characters. And no, I do not make any money from this.**

* * *

Wednesday February 28th, 2018, 14:27,  
In front of the UN Building in Geneva, Switzerland

"I don't like this."

I look to my left and see Mario, a 19 year old private in my platoon and the best machine gunner in the entire company, taking a whiff off his cigarette before continuing.

"We're just sitting here, in the middle of the plaza, where there's no cover and everybody can see us. It's like those Americans want us to be a diversion while they can do some shady shit."

I let out a silent murmur. On the one hand I completely agree with him. What we were doing here was by no means standard operating procedure. But on the other hand I couldn't openly question orders in front of my men, that would just ruin morale.

"Listen Private, those diplomats are here to try and avert a war between two superpowers and we're here to make sure that nothing happens to them. Our country has been neutral for over 200 years and we have the UN here, which is why we're the perfect place to find a diplomatic solution.", I answer neutrally.

Tensions between the new hard-right Russian nationalists who have won the Russian elections and the US government have been spiraling out of control in the last few months and now there was a UN security council meeting taking place here, on behalf of the Americans. While it was supposed to be secret due to the amount of high-ranking officials flying in to guarantee safety, the media worldwide somehow got wind of this and have been reporting non-stop for the last two weeks. Unsurprisingly, this combined with the security measures that skyrocketed has led to multiple large protests, and now the Swiss army diverted a large amount of soldiers to make sure the talks stay peaceful and to avert any terrorist attacks.

"I know, I know," answered Mario tiredly, "we're here to stop a new world war or some bullshit like that, but when I was conscripted I didn't think I'd actually have to do something like this. You know, something that actually has the potential of me getting hurt when I only have 2 months left?"

"Shut up, Mario, all of us here are conscripts," said Lukas, another Private, "and all of us have only 2 months left before we're out. Hell, we have only served 8 months so far. If anybody has is allowed bitch around it's the Lt, he's been doing this for the past year and a half. Ain't that right Lieutenant?", he calls out while looking at me.

I chuckle before answering, "Jup, 614 days so far and 66 days to go. And the reason I'm not bitchin' and moanin' is because I just learned to embrace the suck. Now keep your head on a swivel and make sure nobody gets past this fence, we aren't getting paid to just stand around and talk."

"Yes sir", I hear my guys say as they focus their attention back towards the crowds on the plaza. I look down and make sure that my Stgw90 rifle and Pist75 pistol both have their safety on. After that I check my assortment of grenades, and lastly I make sure that my magazines for both my rifle and pistol are where they should be. I know I checked them before we even left base, but it's a good feeling to reassure yourself that everything is where it was supposed to be. When I look up I see Mario checking his LMG05. I take a look at the squad I'm with. We're 10 men, all of us are wearing full combat gear, Kevlar helmets and vests as well as non-lethal sprays for crowd control. All in all it looks like we're ready to start a war, while actually we're here to prevent one.

I sigh and look at my watch. It's 14:33. This is going to be a while.

* * *

An hour goes by, and nothing happens except for a few glances from pedestrians walking by. It's starting to be quite boring and my men are becoming a bit unfocused, so I try to cheer them up.

"Alright guys, we have to hold our position until 5 o'clock, which means another 1 and a half hours"

A collective groan from my squad is heard.

"So," I chuckle, "I will pay the first round tonight at the bar."

The previous groan instantly turned into a cheer, and I could see that all of them have straightened their backs and putting in double the effort of before. I smile. Motivating guys is a piece of cake, as long as you promise them alcohol they'll do almost anything.

Shaking myself out of my thoughts, I see Chris, the squads NCO, approach me.

"First round, eh", he says in a low voice, "You sure it's about the guys, and not that cute waitress at that bar?"

I look at his shit-eating grin while I feel my cheeks redden. Luckily I've got a balaclava covering my face, or he'd know I was about to lie.

"No, she's got nothing to do with that", I say trying to sound as sincere as possible, "I just want the guys to have a good time after doing a great job out here."

He keeps looking at me with that grin and slowly raises an eyebrow.

"Oh fuck you Chris", I say exasperated.

"Hah, I knew it!", he exclaims proudly, "don't worry Matt, your secret is safe with me. But seriously," he said his grin almost fading from his face, "You should just ask her out. I mean come on, you're tall, you're fit thanks to being infantry, you're 20 and you're good enough at a conversation to not sound like a weirdo. Honestly, if I were in your shoes I'd already be going out with her. ", he finishes with a teasing tone in his voice.

I just let out an exhausted breath. He may be one of my closest friends and I could count on him for anything, but sometimes he can be a huge nuisance. Nevertheless, sometimes he actually makes sense and has surprisingly good advice. Plus him stroking my ego made me feel a bit less nervous about talking to her. I look back up to him and with a sincere voice I reply, "Thanks dude, sometimes I need a swift kick in my butt. And if this actually works out, I'll buy you beers until the end of the wee-"

"Lieutenant Hartmann, this is HQ, come in", my radio suddenly screams, interrupting me. I give Chris an apologetic look while grabbing my mic and pressing a thumb on the 'Send' button.

"HQ, this is Lieutenant Hartmann, send traffic", I reply neutrally, my voice not betraying the fact that I was extremely nervous. With the logistical nightmare of organizing so many troops, a lot of whom have been flown in both by the US and Russia communications from HQ were reserved for important updates or other urgent orders and with us protecting the site of extremely tense negotiations there was unlimited possibilities why we were contacted, nearly all of them bad.

"Lieutenant, there is an unauthorized demonstration heading towards the UN building, more specifically your position. Their goal is to storm the building an interrupt the talks as well as to take hostage the diplomats in there. Local police are trying to disperse the crowds, but with most of them being tied down by the massive rallies down by the lake there's not much they can do. Estimated size of the crowd is at around 150 and most of them have ski masks, and it is unknown if they are armed. ETA is 5 mikes, backup is on it's way but 20 mikes out. Use of all non-lethal weapons and live warning shots authorized. Should the situation escalate live fire is also authorized", the radio buzzed. A hesitant pause is heard on the other side, before the voice continues, "Good luck son.", before shutting off.

Holy shit, I thought, if Command is authorizing live rounds then the situation is _really_ bad. With now noticeable apprehension I reply, "Copy that HQ, we're on it."

Chris was listening in on the conversation and muttered silently, "Fuck me, this is not good, not good at all."

"Yeah," I agreed, "this is going to turn south real fast."

Turning to the rest of the squad, I tell them our situations and repeat the orders given. All of the guys were worried and rumors were forming instantly.

"Live rounds?"

"We're no bloody police state, I ain't shooting civvies!"

"150 hostiles? Fuck, we're so outnumbered!

"ATTENTION!", I roared, silencing all and making them stand ram-rod straight, just as they were taught in boot camp. "I know these seem like extreme orders, but these are violent rioters, not peaceful civilians exercising their right to free speech. As such they have lost their right to be treated as one. Nevertheless, we will only use live rounds if there is NO OTHER POSSIBLE WAY! This is an option of last resort intended to be used only if any one of you is in severe danger! AM I CLEAR!"

"SIR, YES SIR!" came the immediate reply. Despite our situation, I smiled a bit. Not any single one of us has been in a situation coming even close like this, yet I could see that all of them would follow my orders to the letter in the next 20 minutes. "I know that not a single one of us signed up voluntarily, but I know that you'll do the right thing, and I'm proud to lead you", I added honestly.

We could now hear the loud mob moving towards us at a frighteningly fast pace, and the distinct sound of rubber bullets being fired. I pulled the bolt back on my rifle and chambered a bullet, and as if that was a silent command all the other guys did the same thing. I take my pistol and do the same thing there, before looking up again and seeing Mario fold out his bipod and going prone, the ammo-belt on his machine gun jingling quietly. I give him a nod to let him know I understand, due to him having to carry the large and heavy amounts of ammo he was the only one who didn't have any pepper spray meaning he only had lethal weapons on him. The rest had one hand on their rifle and the other on the spray sitting on their waist belt.

Suddenly, out of a smaller street we see a small squad of riot police running as fast as as their bulky, dark body armor allows. A hail of rocks and bottles follow them as they try to defend themselves with their big riot shields. One of the officers sees us and yells some orders to his squad mates, and they start running towards us. Nearly a second later, a wave of masked humans pours out of that same street onto the plaza and start turning towards us. However, the sudden appearance of ten fully armed soldiers make them halt momentarily. By now the police officers have reached our position and the CO, exhausted from being chased down, goes, "We've been told that there was a squad of you here, and thank god for that. Those vandals would have probably killed us if they'd have managed to overwhelm us". I take a quick glance at him and his men. All of them seem like they've been hurt, some worse than others. At least two shields have big cracks in them, and one uniform looks as if a Molotov cocktail hit the officer.

"Don't thank us to soon, Sergeant, we have been been authorized to use lethal force if necessary", I go. He looks at me in complete shock, but before he can say anything one of the rioters steps forward, a red flare burning in his hand.

"Soldiers," he shouts, "we don't want to fight you. All we want is to get those traitorous politicians in the UN. Lower your weapons, and we will leave you in peace. Fight, and you shall supper the same fate as those pigs inside."

While he was talking, the police formed a line directly in front of us, using their shields to cover as many of us as possible. At the same time, squad comms were going wild.

"Can you see any guns?"

"Are those molotovs?!"

"Fuck, I can't see anything. Anyone else got something"

Looking at the crowd I noticed that I had to act now. I made my way through the police line so that I was standing in front of them all, and only 20 meters away from the guy with the flare. Mustering all my confidence, I stated,

"I'm Second Lieutenant Matthew Hartmann, the commanding officer of these men. I have orders to stop anyone from entering UN grounds, so I can't let you past. We are authorized to use any force necessary to achieve this, and while I do not want to I will make use of it. You can still walk away, and I promise that I will not stop you, despite your actions leading up to this moment"

The man, seemingly their leader, was not impressed by my words. Angrily, he shouted, "I'll give you one last chance to step aside and let us get those traitorous pigs in the UN, but should you refuse you'll face the wrath of the people!"

I look him straight in the eye, and without hesitation I reply "Im sorry, but I can't let you do that."

He looks furious, and with an angry roar he pulls out of nowhere a small, silver pistol.

"GUN!", I shout while pulling my rifle into a shooting position.

In the next half of a second, multiple things happen.

Before the man in front of me manages to aim his pistol at me, I pull the trigger and put a bullet through his head.

Some of the rioters pull out guns and also start to point them in our direction, while some other rioters started to run away.

My squad, seeing the man pull the gun, all open up on the crowd, firing at everything that looked like a weapon.

I try to choose a new target, but suddenly I feel as if I got kicked by a horse in multiple locations, and I crumple to the ground, hit by a spray of bullets.

The gunfire and screams around me fade, as I look at my body and see multiple holes in my uniform. But my eyes are suddenly glued to a dark red stain near my stomach which is rapidly growing. Adrenaline is pumping through my veins, and while I don't feel anything I can't help but watch as the stain keeps getting bigger and bigger, while finally seeing a small crimson puddle forming underneath me on the cold cobblestone pavement. Time seems to be going at a snails pace, and I have all but forgotten the gunfight around me. After what felt like an hour, I suddenly see Chris coming into my field of view, holding a first aid kit in one hand. He kneels next to me, looking horrified at the amount of blood that has pooled underneath me. My attention goes back to my gaping wound, and I notice my vision getting darker and darker, and the last thing I saw before darkness overcame me was my blood dripping on the cobblestone ground, mixing with the dirt.

* * *

 **Aand that's it, ladies and gentlemen, Chapter 1 of my Self-Insert is complete! I know that there was absolutely no Mass Effect in this chapter, but this was simply a chapter to get to know the background of, well, me while setting things up for the future. Don't you worry, from the next chapter onward it will all be in the ME-verse.**

 **I know, me depicting how a squad of soldiers kill a partly-armed mob of rioters will definitely cause some controversy, but I don't want my character to be a morally infallible person with the perfect answer to every possible scenario, and I also wanted to show how difficult the decision-making as an officer can be. Sometimes there's no good option, only different bad ones. This also means that this story will at times get pretty dark, so you have been warned! What would you have done if you were in this situation?**

 **On another note, I have zero experience with writing a story, so any comments with constrictive criticism are extremely welcome. Anyway, until at least in a week, c ya!  
**


	2. Prologue Pt2

**Well, I thought I couldn't publish a ME story without any ME elements, so here it is: Chapter 2! From now on set in the ME-verse.  
**

 **Also, hot damn! Didn't think I'd already get any follows this soon, much less any comments at all. You guys rock!**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Mass Effect, nor any of its characters or content. I do however own some original characters. And no, I do not make any money from this.**

* * *

Monday February 28th, 2174, 15:57  
Cerberus Research Base, Colony of Terra Nova

Doctor Edward Hansen was ecstatic. After decades of theoretical research and spending the last 10 months on the practical implementation his life work was finally complete. It had cost him everything to get to this point. His family, his friends, even his job at Terra Novas most prestigious university, it was all gone. A crazed maniac, they called him. A feverish dream, they called his theories. Everybody thought his work was pure fiction. Well, he thought with a small, evil smile, not _everybody_.

When he lost his job and came home to his tiny apartment, the first thing he noticed was the radio running quietly. 'Weird', he thought to himself, 'I always turn that off.' He took two steps towards the radio, when a voice startled him from behind. "Good evening, Dr. Hansen," he heard a voice behind him. He jerked around to see a stunning raven-haired woman who must have been in her early twenties. Despite her looking like a supermodel, she had a dangerous feel to her, as if she knew how to kill you in an instant. With a slight australian accent, she continued in an even voice, "my name is Miranda Lawson, and I would like to talk with you about a job opportunity in our organization."

That was almost a year ago, and it was the best thing that had ever happened to him. They listened to his theories, and when he showed them his calculations they decided to fund a project to turn his theories into reality. He was the project lead, while that Lawson woman provided the link between him and his illusive boss. He had no idea who he was of how he was able to fund his things, but if he was honest with himself he didn't really care. All he cared about was proving the galaxy that he was right, and that he was no maniac.

Hansen looked up from a datapad that he was holding and looked at his device that they have managed to build. He had personally triple-checked everything to make sure that there was not a single flaw. And now, after all this time, he knew that his invention would work. His Space-Time manipulator would show the entire galaxy that he was not a maniac, that he had been right all along.

Little did anyone know, the machine would would end up doing something completely different.

* * *

Monday February 28th, 2174, 23:57  
Near the Cerberus Research Base

"Alright men, listen up. You have all been briefed on what we know, and you are all aware of the fact that we've got no clue on what they're up to in that base. However, we know that it's a scientific base, so there should be limited resistance."

Service Chief Federico Murphy was silently moving through the woods, his squad of Alliance Special Forces following closely behind him. Through their shared comm channel, he keeps speaking.

"Nevertheless, this is the first time that we have managed to pinpoint a Cerberus base, so make sure that you damage and kill as little as you can so that we get as much intel on this terrorist group as possible. That's all guys, oorah!"

" _OORAH_!", comes the reply of his men through his helmets speakers. He didn't have to say anything else, they all knew what to do. They were Special Forces, the best of the best, and the heavily armed group of 6 men moved through the dark forest, as silent and deadly as ghosts.

* * *

Tuesday February 29th, 2174, 00:37  
Cerberus Base Entrance

A pair of guards stood at the entrance, being thoroughly bored. The base was located deep in an uninhabited forest, and the closest settlement was 150 km to the north-west. Not once has anyone even come close to stumbling over the base, and a sensor net secured everything in a 500 meter radius. Because of this guard duty was seen as a punishment for lazy personnel, rather than an important job to keep intruders out. And the night shift was reserved for the worst punishment.

Unsurprisingly, the guards weren't paying any attention what so ever to their surroundings and were simply fighting the urge to lay down and take a nap. After a loud yawn from the first guard, he looks at the other and asks, "Hey Joe, I'll fall asleep here standing if I don't do something. Wanna play a round of 'I spy'?"

The other guard turns to face the former and in an annoyed tone replies, "Seriously, Gary? 'I spy'? In case you haven't noticed, it's the middle of the damn night and I'm not 10 years old. Why the fuck do you think I'd want to do that?"

"Aw, come on man," the first one begs, "there's nothing else to do and our shift goes 'till 4 o'clock in the morning. I'll die from boredom and sleep deprivation if I keep standing around here. Please?"

"Ugh, fine", comes the reply from the guard named Joe, "I spy something white. Happy?"

"No I'm not, because obviously you're not putting in any effort because that white thing is your armor", Gary pouts.

Joe rolls his eyes and responds, "Yeah well you got me to play this stupid game, be happy with that."

"Fine," Gary grumbles, "guess now it's my turn. I spy somethi-"

*POP*

Out of nowhere, Gary exploded, showering the other Cerberus guard in a mess of blood and brain matter.

"What the-" he cried out, only to be silenced by another mass-accelerated grain of sand hitting his head, giving him no time to raise an alert for the unsuspecting scientists inside the base.

Six armed figures suddenly appear, moving towards the entrance with their weapons drawn.

"I spy two dead terrorists", one of the figures mutters before unlocking the door, forcing themselves into unknown territory.

* * *

Service Chief Federico Murphy was silently thanking whatever entity was watching over him for giving them a perfect, unnoticed entry into the facility. However, they now didn't have the cover of darkness protecting them, which meant that they had to take the base the old-fashioned way. The room they entered was a small changing room with a few sets of armor hanging on armor stands.

" _Chief, left of the armor stands_ ", the voice of Private First Class Patrick Carrol, the squads close combat specialist, sounded over the radio. Murphy looked over to that point and saw a grated locker filled with what looked to be weapons in their collapsed state. The Service Chief walked over to the locker and loaded up a hacking program on his omni-tool. Waiving said tool in front of the locker managed to hack the lock almost in an instant, and Murphy opened the locker. He takes out a gun, and it immediately unfolds in his hands. He grimaces when he immediately recognizes the model.

"Watch out guys, they've got M-7 Lancers", he radios through the squads channel, putting the rifle back into the locker.

Cheap, tough and reliable, the M-7 Lancer is the standard issue weapon to every Alliance marine. While there are millions of different variants of this iconic human weapon in the galaxy, most notably the civilian AR-7, the Alliance has strongly regulated the military version. The fact that a terrorist organization had access to these weapons was a glaring indicator that they had deep connections, something that didn't exactly fill the soldiers with much optimism.

The six men make their way to the door that would lead them deeper into the base. There, Murphy starts relaying orders

"Carrol, you go in first and take the left, Daniels, you take the right next, the rest of us move through and take the middle, we'll try to stay silent as long as possible, so no flash-bangs or loud noises. All copy?", he says professionally. A series of confirmations follow.

"Good, now stack up, I'm hacking the door."

The squad forms up, on each side three men. Murphy lets the hack begin and soon has control of the doors locks.

"Standby for breach in 3, 2, 1, BREACH!"

The doors slide open, revealing a startled guard standing on his own in the middle of an otherwise empty hallway.

"Wha-" was all he could say before a pair of black armored gloves wrap themselves around his neck and twisting sideways rapidly, killing him instantly.

"Tango down, we are still moving silent", was the only thing said as the six armed men step over the body, their black armor not reflecting the lifeless face.

The squad reaches the end of the hallway, and from there three doors branched off. A locked room labeled 'Project Lead' was on their right-hand side, the door on their left was labeled 'Main Facility', and the door straight ahead was simply labeled as 'Maintenance', with a big, red warning sign underneath that read 'DO NOT ENTER WHEN ACTIVE'.

Quickly coming up with a plan, the service chief let his men hear his orders.

"I trust that warning sign, and we desperately need intel on these guys so we'll secure our right before advancing", he ordered.

Making short work of the lock, the soldiers quickly move into the room with their weapons drawn, expecting company. Surprisingly, no one is there.

'Where the hell is everyone?', Murphy thinks to himself, 'so far we've only encountered three people, and those were all guards'.

"Carrol, cover the door", he orders, "the rest of you try and find out what the hell they've been doing here".

Wordlessly the men start searching the room, with Pfc. Carrol taking cover behind a desk and pointing his barrel towards the door. One of them touches something, and a holo-record of an older man with a lab coat starts talking.

 _"Vid-log Day 26, Doctor Edward Hansen. Today marks an important day in this project. We have finally received enough of the rare metals to start construction of the Space-Time Manipulator. I am finally able to make my dream come true. The fact that I have to work for this organization is merely a small loss of prestige, nothing that I care about anyway. This is truly one of the most important days of my life."  
_

"What the bloody hell was that about?", Private Elliot Ross asked with a heavy English accent, "Space-Time Manipulator? That cunt sounds like a bloody nutter!"

"Yeah well obviously some people thought that it could be done," the Chief replied, "whatever the hell that is. He's marked three entries as important and we've opened the first one, go ahead and hit the second one"

"Copy that, Chief", Ross replied as he selected the second entry.

 _"Vid-log Day 178, Doctor Edward Hansen. Construction efforts are going as planned, this 'Illusive Man' is keeping his word. We've been able to finish the first of the generators, and the second one is on schedule to being completed. Imagine what we can do once we finish this device! The laws of space-time would no longer apply to whatever we point the generators at. Time travel and teleportation over infinite distances would be possible! We could even bring people from the past and future into our current time! Oh, the possibilities, the endless, endless possibilities!"  
_

Murphy's face turned white when he heard those words. What would happen if this kind of power would fall into the hands of a terrorist organization? More importantly, what would happen if _any_ power got their hands on this technology?

The same thoughts flew through everyone's minds at that moment. "Blimey", came the muttering from Ross, "I want to shoot that wanker"

Without any other word, he hit the third entry.

 _"Vid-log Day 302, Doctor Edward Hansen. It's complete! It's finally complete! I can't believe it. My whole life I have been working towards this very moment. And now my theories are reality. All of my colleagues who have ever doubted me, believe me when I say that I'll make sure that you will never be born. You shall all be struck from this reality and never exist! The Illusive Man wanted me to wait until the beginning of the next month to start testing, but I don't care what he says. I will give the order to charge up the generator and according to my calculations it will be ready sometime tonight"_

"Chief, the timestamp on the recording indicates that this was taken about 9 hours ago. This thing could go live at any moment!", Cpl. Daniels exclaims.

"Lock and Load squad, we are done staying silent", Murphy says, a steely resolve in his voice, "let's kill this lunatic."

"OORAH!" they go before charging out of the door back into the hallway they were in earlier. They take up positions at the 'Main Facility' Door and the Chief's hack was already activated. The same instant the lock turned green, they all rushed in the room, weapons drawn.

The sight before them would haunt them for the next few months.

Ten guards stood before them, their backs facing the team. In front of them were dozens of bodies in what looked to be worker uniforms. One of the workers was still alive, begging for his life.

"-on't tell anyone about this place," he shouted, "I just took this job to feed my family"

"You're a potential leak, and we've got orders to stop any leaks", one of the guards goes before executing the man.

The Alliance squad opened fire and took the Cerberus troopers by surprise. They didn't even get the chance to return fire before they were cut down.

"This makes me sick", Murphy states in a somber tone. He gets a few nods of agreement from his men before pushing further into the facility.

* * *

"Doctor Hansen", a guard says, "we have intruders in the base"

Edward Hansen stops typing on an interface for a moment before replying, "Kill them. Nothing can be allowed to stop me now"

The guard nods in confirmation before marching out the door, redirecting the remaining guards in the base.

Doctor Hansen continues typing. 'Nothing can stop me now', he thinks to himself.

On the top-left corner of the interface a command box read 'Awaiting target coordinates'

* * *

The six Alliance soldiers are moving down another corridor, when an artificial voice overhead booms:

 _"ATTENTION, GENERATORS ARE BEING ACTIVATED, EVACUATE CONTAINMENT ROOM IMMEDIATELY."_

"Fuck", shouted Murphy, "we gotta move, NOW"

No second later, the door they were moving to opened and revealed enemy troopers.

"Contact, 12 o'clock!", shouted Ross and the squad immediately scatters to cover. The Cerberus troops fire blindly in their direction, saturating the air with countless bullets.

The Special Forces return fire, forcing the enemy to take cover themselves. One of them however is caught out in the open, and a well-placed spray shatters his shield and cuts right through his armor, killing him before he could take cover behind a desk. Murphy drops his rifle and reaches towards a disc-shaped object on his hips.

"FRAG OUT", he yells before tossing the grenade in the middle of the Cerberus squad. One of the guards sees the object and tries to flee, only to get cut down immediately by Ross. The grenade detonates with a loud bang, and the concussive force along with hundreds of small metal pellets obliterates three more enemies who were stuck inside the blast radius.

The remaining guards are down to three men, but put up a desperate fight. Bullets hit everyone, but are deflected by their shields. Then one Cerberus trooper fires a lucky shot towards Murphy.

"AAH!", he screams out in pain as he feels the tiny round tear through his armor and left arm. The intense burning pain however doesn't last long, as his armor automatically dispenses a dose of medi-gel on the wound.

The hit of the Chief distracted an enemy trooper for a moment as he switched targets to aim at Murphy. One of the soldiers however immediately took advantage of this and shot him in the lung, making him collapse while gasping for air.

Ross takes out a grenade himself and chucks it directly at the last two troopers. Deciding to make a run for it, they jump out of cover and start rushing towards the Alliance soldiers. However, they immediately get shot by six rifles and they slump to the floor, their bodies riddled with bullets.

"Take that ye bloody cunts", Ross says before looking over to Murphy. "Ye alright lad?", he asks with a slightly worried tone, "Tha' looked like it hurt."

"Nothing that'll slow us down", Murphy responds. Ross keeps looking at him for another moment before he goes "Alrightey, but when we get back A'm takin' ya to the pub mate."

* * *

The squad rushes through the door and enter a control room, where they see an older man wearing a white lab coat point a pistol in their direction. "Don't come any closer", he shouts, "I will not let you destroy everything I have created!"

 _"That's the cunt"_ , Murphy hears Ross on the radio, _"That's that Doctor Hansen, Chief"_

"Doctor Hansen", Murphy talks slowly, "We are Alliance Special Forces and you are working with a terrorist organization. You are under arrest."

"No, no, no, no, NO! You don't understand. This is my life's work. My _precious_." he looks the Chief straight into his visor "And you will not stop me from activating it."

"STOP!", yells Murphy, but the doctor is already moving for the activation pad. He extends his finger towards it, but just before he pushes it, a bullet punches straight through his chest. The body goes limp and smashes on the controls, pressing random numbers and letters. Murphy goes wide-eyed when he sees in which direction the body is starting to slide and starts sprinting as fast as he can. Before he can reach it however, the doctors limp arm rolls onto the pad, activating the machine.

A window to the left, previously mistaken for part of the wall, suddenly starts shining in a bright blue light, while a loud mechanical sound penetrates their ears. Helplessly the squad watches as the light gets brighter and brighter, realizing that behind that glass was the 'containment room' the automated message before mentioned. 'Anything can come through that teleporter', Murphy thought and prayed that whatever would come into existence, it wouldn't destroy them all. The brightness is now blinding, and a warning suddenly sounds through the base, "Warning, warning, generators destabilizing, failure of fusion reactors in the next 10 minutes unavoidable."

"Chief, we better get out of here!" one of the men yells, but before Murphy can utter a reply the light as well as the sound suddenly vanish, being replaced by an occasional sound of a rupturing pipe.

Nervously, the men creep closer towards the window and cast a glance inside. They all gasp when they see a human wearing very old body armor, camouflage clothing and what appears to be a gunpowder rifle bleeding from what appears to be a gunshot wound in his stomach.

"Private, slap some explosives on this glass, we are rescuing that man and then getting out of here", Murphy ordered. He looked at the man inside. If he truly is what Murphy thought he was, then things would become very complicated.

* * *

 _Codex: Systems Alliance Rank Structure  
_

 _The general hierarchy of the systems alliance is roughly split into 3 distinct groups. There are Enlisted, Non-Commissioned Officers (NCOs) and Commissioned Officers, commonly just called officers. While the name would suggest otherwise, it is quite rare for NCOs to become actual commissioned officers. However, it is in fact a requirement to have served as an enlisted for a given time to become an NCO. Members of the Alliance that started off as an Enlisted and managed to rise all the way to the ranks of commissioned officers are unofficially dubbed 'Mustangs', a term that has been coined almost 250 years ago during the humans second 'world war'._

 _Due to the fact that the Marines have a history stretching more than 300 years back, they have as a matter of pride kept their lower rank names, such as private or corporal._

 _From the lowest rank to the top, the ranks of the Alliance are:_

 _ENLISTED_

 _-Serviceman Third Class (3Svm.) / Private (Pvt.)_

 _-Serviceman Second Class (2Svm.) / Private First Class (Pfc.)_

 _-Serviceman First Class (1Svm.) / Corporal (Cpl.)_

 _NCO_

 _-Service Chief_

 _-Gunnery Chief_

 _-Operations Chief_

 _Note: NCOs do not have abbreviations._

 _COMMISSIONED OFFICERS_

 _-2nd Lieutenant (2Lt.)  
_

 _-1st Lieutenant (1Lt.)_

 _-Staff Lieutenant (SLt.)_

 _-Lieutenant Commander (LtCdr.)_

 _-Staff Commander (SCdr.)_

 _-Captain (Cpt.) / Major (Maj.)_

 _-Rear Admiral (RAdm.) / General (Gen.)_

 _-Admiral (Adm.)_

 _-Fleet Admiral (FlAdm.)_

* * *

 **Yes, yes, I had to do some sciency mumbo-jumbo to get myself transported into the ME-verse, I can already see the hate flow. But honestly, I don't like the other way of suddenly dying and waking up somewhere or any other supernatural explanation. _"But Budget"_ , you may say, _"why did you let yourself almost get killed if you then appear in a Cerberus base?"_. Well, that's because it's going to play an important part in the future story. **

**On another totally unrelated note, who got the "Lord of the Rings" reference? (Admittedly it's quite obvious but eh, what can you do).** _  
_

 **Also, I noticed that the wikia page didn't have any abbreviations for the Alliance ranks, which is why I had to make my own. I'm not happy with a few of them, most notably the NCOs, but I can't come up with any good-locking alternatives. If you've got an idea, let me know in the comments!**

 **Anyway, see you in the next chapter!**


	3. Chapter 1

**Here it is, Chapter Three! Also known as the first chapter of the actual storyline, seeing as the previous two were prologue chapters.**

 **This chapter is not going to be combat-loaded like the previous two were, so y'all can take a breath again :)**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Mass Effect, nor any of its characters or content. I do however own some original characters. And no, I do not make any money from this.**

* * *

Thursday March 3rd, 2174, 13:22  
Alliance Colonial Headquarters, Terra Nova

 _Beep..._

 _Beep..._

 _Beep..._

I slowly hear a steady beeping get louder and louder. I try to open my eyes, but the best I can manage is to ever so slightly crack open my right eye. White. All I can see is a blurry white area before my eyelid falls shut again. Dear god, I feel like utter shit. I've got a headache that feels as if my brain is getting pounded with a sledgehammer. I try to move my arms, but they won't budge a millimeter. All right, legs are next. Again, I can't move anything and I give up trying.

I try to make out where I am. What I know for sure is that I'm laying down with my face pointing up, and there's an obnoxious beeping sound coming from my left. 'Where the hell did I land here', I think to myself. My headache is starting to feel slightly better, as if that sledgehammer is running at a mere 90%, but I now feel numbness encase my entire body. Focusing all of my willpower, I try to move my right index-finger. There, a slight twitch happens. For some reason that felt extremely good. I might as well be paralyzed, but I'm starting to overcome whatever is hindering me. My eyelids still feel like a thousand tons and are closed shut, but I try moving the other fingers on my right hand. There, slowly but surely I manage to move them, one by one. Good, now the other side. After what feels like nearly ten minutes, I've got basic motor functions back in both of my hands. 'Alright', I think, 'Let's move the arms'. I focus on the left arm, and feel my muscles tense. 'Almost there', I think to myself, 'just a little bit'. The arm starts moving and...

...I feel straps around my wrist restraining me from moving any further.

What the fuck?

Slowly, I manage to open an eye and see the white blur above me again. My eye slowly starts to focus, and I manage to get the other one open. The white blur sharpens and I realize that I'm staring at a what appears to be painfully sterile, white ceiling. My head is propped up on a pillow, and I use that angle to move my view towards my arms.

Sure enough, I see my hands encased in thick, black straps. Not only that, but it appears that my legs are also strapped to this bed that I somehow appeared in. My brain has finally woken up enough that I'm able to roll my head to the left towards the still obnoxious beeping sound. I see what appears to be a weird-looking screen on a movable arm,you know the ones that can move in any direction, however the screen was turned off. Checking my surroundings, I realize three things: One, everything is either white or gray. Two, there's only a single door with what looks to be a weird, orange circle in the middle that for some reason looks slightly familiar. And three, I've got no way to lose these straps that are keeping me pinned to the bed.

The numbness has mostly dissipated, but I still can't feel my body around my stomach. Hmm, wonder why that is. In any case, I'm able to move my toes and flex my muscles again, and my skull-crushing headache has weakened to just a normal headache. Well, under normal circumstances I'd probably classify it as bad, but after experiencing the mother-of-all-headaches this feels quite nice.

Suddenly I see that weird orange circle in my peripheral vision spinning wildly. I turn my head towards the door, as the circle stops spinning and turns green. Man, I swear that circle seems familiar, but I can't figure out where I've seen that before. The door _slides_ open instead of opening like, well, a normal door and I see a women, who appears to be in her early thirties, come in while holding some kind of tablet computer. She looks up from the tablet and gasps in shock when she notices me looking at her.

"Hey, why am I tied up?", I ask in Swiss German, my weak voice betraying that I'd woken up not long ago. The woman regains her posture and at a quick pace moves towards the beeping screen. "Hey", I say again, this time a bit louder, "Where am I and why am I tied up?"

She doesn't look at me and hastily switches on the screen, but I can see in the way her face twitched when I spoke that she clearly understood me. I look at the monitor and to my surprise I see a whole flood of information about my blood-pressure, heart-rate and other medical readouts. Looks like I'm in a hospital which makes the woman is either a doctor or nurse, answering one of my questions. Still doesn't tell me anything about why I'm restrained or why she won't talk to me. The nurse, I at least think it's a nurse seeing that she's checking my readings, finished typing something in her tablet and starts to move towards the door again. Fuck that, I want answers.

"HEY", I try yelling as loud as I can and surprisingly, she stops. "Why won't you tell me anything?", I almost plead in a low voice. The woman doesn't turn around, but says just as quietly, "Because I'm not allowed to", before walking out the door, turning the green circle orange again. I think about what she said, when I suddenly realize _how_ she said it. She didn't speak in Swiss German or any of the other three national languages. She spoke in English.

Fuck.

I wasn't in Switzerland anymore.

* * *

Thursday March 3rd, 2174, 15:41  
Alliance Colonial Headquarters, Terra Nova

Major Sean Brynant was a big man. Standing at 185 cm and weighing 90 kg of pure muscle he was a person that you couldn't miss in a crowd. The fact that he was the commanding officer of all special forces in the exodus cluster made a recipe for a man that oozes strength and authority.

Right now, all of that was worth nothing.

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN I'M BEING DISMISSED?! I'M THEIR CO, I PLANNED THIS ASSAULT WITH THEM, AND YOU HAVE THE SAME RANK AS I DO!", he roared at another man standing in his office.

"Yes Major Brynant, but this document signed by the Alliance's Prime Minister", the man simply replied being absolutely unfazed at the shouting before, "states that everything regarding the mission on that base, including the spec-ops squad and any recovered...", the mysterious man paused for a second before continuing, "assets, fall under my command effective immediately. Now my first order is to classify everything about this raid so highly that you are not even allowed the name of the classification, so I suggest you hand over everything to my authority or you'll be charged with treason of the highest degree, warranting immediate capital punishment. Understood, Major?"

Brynant was fuming with anger. How dare this spook do this? But the order did have the signature of the Prime Minister, so through gritted teeth, he replied slowly, "Yes, sir. Eagle squad and all assets will be turned over to Naval Intelligence."

The mysterious man let a faint smile creep onto his face. He was not sure if he could believe the reports he read about the raid, but if they were correct, then he would be busy for a while.

* * *

Thursday March 3rd, 2174, 16:19  
Alliance Colonial Headquarters, Secure Hospital Wing

I was bored.

Not the normal bored that you would get once in a while, but I was completely, utterly _bored._

There was nothing that I could do, seeing that I was still restrained and couldn't move, and the fact that I was probably being held prisoner, while frightening, wasn't enough to keep me distracted for what felt like hours since that nurse came in. I tried to remember how I got here, but the last thing that I can think of is receiving orders to stand around for 8 hours in front of the UN building in Geneva. After that, there's nothing except for a nagging feeling in my head. You know, the one you get when you walk out of the house and know you forgot something, but just don't remember what.

Suddenly, the door slides open and the nurse walks in, but this time there's a short man following her. I move my attention to the man, and see that he's wearing some kind of dark-blue uniform. As soon as I spot the uniform, I get the same feeling that I had when I saw the orange/green circle on the door, but I still can't remember where I've seen that before. Before I can notice that me not remembering things is starting to become a theme, the man speaks up. "Do it, nurse." Well, that confirms my theory about her being a nurs-

"Wait, what?", I ask confusedly but in that instant, the nurse pulls out a slim tube-looking thing and jams it into my arm. I feel a cool liquid enter my veins, and before I can even utter a word, my world goes dark again.

* * *

Thursday March 3rd, 2174, 20:23  
Classified Alliance Base, Terra Nova

I awake with a gasp, feeling my heart pound furiously in my chest. Immediately checking my arm, I see a small puncture where that nurse injected me with some knock-out liquid. Damn, and here I was desperately hoping that the entire thing was just a bad dream. Taking my eyes off my arm I only now notice that this isn't the same room that I was in before. First of all, there are no restraints keeping me pinned down on the bed. Nice. Secondly, the room looks like a prison cell. Not that nice. The only other point of interest in this cell, next to the bed I was on, was a door with that same familiar, orange circle.

I decide to make the most out of the situation and do some workout while I'm stuck here. Hey, I might be a prisoner that still doesn't know anything about whats going the hell on, but workout beats boredom and is healthy for you. I swing my legs out of bed and notice that I'm wearing an orange jumpsuit. Jup, definitely in some kind of jail. Suddenly the door to my cell opens, and I tense expecting someone to come in. Nothing happens though, and then a voice overhead speaks, _"Lieutenant, please move through the door."_

I hesitate. Should I really do what this voice is telling me through some hidden speaker? But then I have a flashback to the nurse injecting me with that stuff, and I decide to follow the instructions for now. I walk to the door and peek out. The only thing I see is a table with two chairs and another door. Well fuck me, looks like they want to interrogate me. In this moment the voice talks again. _"Please sit on the chair closest to you."_

Sensing that I don't really have a choice in this matter, I do as I'm told and sit down. The chair is surprisingly comfortable, and I look around, not knowing what to do. Suddenly, the door on the other chairs side opens and the same short man with the uniform I saw at the hospital steps through, holding another one of those tablet computers. However, another man is following him and he is wheeling in a big unmarked box. If I was nervous before, I'm now positively sweating bullets. The second man drops the box off and leaves through the door, while the short man sat down on the chair opposite of mine. He looks me straight into my eye, and I'm to afraid to look away so I meet his gaze. After what felt like an eternity, he looks at his tablet and asks, "Tell me something about yourself".

I'm surprised at his voice. He looks like a typical middle-aged Italian guy with short dark hair, a matching mustache and brown eyes, but his accent is a perfect London English. He keeps looking at me intently, and after I don't reply for about ten seconds he asks again, "Come on now, don't be shy, tell me something."

At this point my training kicks in, and I reply stoically:

"Hartmann Matthew, Second Lieutenant, service number 756.-"

"Listen," he interrupts, "I've got all of that information, apart from your rank, right here."

He reaches for the box that was wheeled in before and grabs something silvery. He throws it on the table right in front of me and I gasp. Lying right there were my dog tags. I try to say something, but he immediately continues, "I know your rank because of this" and pulls out a camouflaged jacket. Sure enough, on the top there was the Velcro rang insigna with a single thin stripe, indicating my rank.

"Well, then that's all I have to tell you under the Geneva Conventions.", I say trying to sound neutral, but failing to keep all of my nervousness out, "I don't even know where I am or who you are." I add.

He looks at me intensely, and I feel uncomfortable under his gaze. Slowly, he asks "You really don't know, do you?"

I nod, unable to say anything. Just what did he mean with that question?

He then taps something on his tablet, and starts questioning me.

"Who is the momentary president of your federal council?"

Startled, I look at him. What the hell kind of question is that?

"Alain Berset", I answer carefully.

"What was your mission on the 28th of February in the year 2018?"

What the fuck? These questions make no damn sense!

"We were supposed to protect the UN Building in Geneva." I answer truthfully. Damn, I can't believe that I'm telling him this, but something about his tone and the way he keeps looking at me tells me that he already knows the answers and merely wants me to confirm them.

He then slowly reads out the next question,

"What is the last thing you remember from Geneva before waking up in the hospital?"

Hell, I don't remember myself so might as well tell him. "Look, I don-"

 _'A man holding a burning, red flare shouts "I'll give you one last chance to step aside and let us get those traitorous pigs in the UN, but should you refuse you'll face the wrath of the people!"  
I tell him that I can't do that.  
He pulls out a gun and starts aiming it at me.  
I already have my rifle and shoot the man.  
The crowd behind him shouts and pull more weapons.  
Gunfire from behind erupts and rips into the crowd.  
*hey*  
I too move my rifle towards the crowd, but feel multiple bullets hit me.  
*HEY*  
I fall to the ground, and slowly everything goes dark'  
_

"HEY! Snap out of it!"

I look confused towards the voice, and see the same man that was questioning me look at me worriedly. "You had a flashback", he said in a calming voice, "It's all ok, you're not there anymore."

"I-I was s-suppossed to t-talk down the man i-in charge", I stutter, still frightened from the memories that returned, "a-and he pulled a gun and I - oh god I shot him and then they pulled guns and we just- we, we just opened fire."

I start crying now, not caring that the man in front was interrogating me for something. "We *sniff* we just started gunning them down and then *sniff* they returned fire a-and *sniff* I- I think I got hit and I fell and-"

"Hey, hey, it's all right, you didn't die", the man says to me. I look up to him, and immediately wish I didn't. His face was extremely sad, as if him telling me that I didn't die wasn't the whole truth and there was something worse he hadn't mentioned.

"What are you not telling me?", I ask him after I somewhat shook myself from my memories.

He looks down, as if he desperately didn't want to be the one to tell.

"What are you hiding?", I ask more firmly.

"Well," he starts, "there's no easy way to tell you. You see Lieutenant, from all of our mission reports that we managed to find in our archives you.." he stops for a moment to focus himself, "You were declared killed in action."

"What?", I manage to breath. _Dead?_ "But I'm alive, I woke up in a hospital, I'm fine."

He looks uncomfortable, but replies anyway. "You see, they never recovered your body. An air force _Super Puma_ helicopter picked you up, but the helicopter suffered a technical failure and crashed, exploding in a giant fireball. Nobody thought that it was possible to survive that."

Holy shit, that's a lot to take in. I gulp, but reply somewhat optimistically, "Well, that's good, no? I'm alive, so they can change my status, right?"

The man however sadly replies. "You see, that was in the year 2018." And then he adds a sentence, that should change my entire life. "Right now, the year is 2174, and I am a member of a supra-national organization called the Human Systems Alliance."

Oh god.

The orange door icons.

That dark-blue uniform.

It all makes sense.

I'm in Mass Effect. 9 years before Eden Prime.

What the _fuck_ am I going to do?

* * *

 **Endrius raised a good point in the comments about Cerberus being an Alliance black ops unit during this time (cheers to you mate for spotting that), like Admiral Kahoku says in the first ME. After visiting the wiki and spending a couple of hours on it, I surprisingly didn't find much information on when they actually split. However, the canon timeline states that the first terrorist act linked with Cerberus was in 2165 when they tried to steal antimatter from the SSV Geneva. Now I can't believe that they'd have to steal from the Alliance if they still were part of it, which leads me to believe that they broke off earlier, giving plenty of time for the Alliance to start hunting them. Still, good point you brought up there Endrius, and I hope you're enjoying the story so far.  
**

 **On another note, thank you guys so much for the favs, follows and reviews! It's really nice to see something that you put effort in get positive feedback and is liked by other people. I think I said it last chapter, but fuck it, I'll say it again: You guys rock!**

 **Anyway, I'll see you all in the next chapter!**


	4. Chapter 2

**Well, it's been two weeks and from here on out, chapters will be coming in a 2 week schedule as opposed to the 2 day bursts from before. Why? Because I wrote the others in advance and now I'm writing as it goes. Also, military life, even though there's a lot of waiting involved, doesn't really allow much time for things like this, especially if you're an officer. Anyway, without further to do, here's the new chapter!**

* * *

Monday March 7th, 2174, 11:28  
Classified Alliance Base, Terra Nova

The last four days were exhausting. Sure, they transferred me from my cell to a normal, comfortable room after they decided that I wasn't a security risk. And they even gave me new clothes. But the exhausting part was when the Italian Naval Intelligence guy who interrogated me (he always referred to that first meeting as an 'interview), told me everything that happened in the last 150 or so years.

He told me what happened to my family, my friends, my men. How they reacted to my apparent death, how they lived, how they died.

He told me a short version of earths history. How humanity, still divided in several nations fighting each other over power, colonized mars and the solar system.

He told me how humanity found alien ruins. How our species reacted to the knowledge that we were not alone out there. How this was the push needed to form an organization, that represented each and every human in existence. How humanity finally was able to colonize planets outside of the solar system.

He then also told me how humanity found living, intelligent alien life. How this discovery brought war. How it was stopped. And how humanity found it's place in the galactic community.

Right now I was waiting in my room for him to escort me to lunch. Hmm, another thing that was starting to get on my nerves. They never let me go anywhere without at least a few people escorting me while a few other people were 'coincidentally' always near, keeping an eye on me. Not that I'd blame them, if I suddenly was in charge of a man who managed to travel forwards in time I'd definitely want to know what he was doing at all times. Still, it felt as if I was in a high-security prison.

The holographic clock on my nightstand turned 11:30 and let a quiet chime out. Another thing that I noticed. Everything was holographic. Holo-clock here, Holo-frame there, it's as if they were scared of a simple LCD or LED display. Apparently 150 years of innovation will do that to people. Before my thoughts could wander any more, the door to my room swooshed open and the Italian guy was there.

"Hello Matthew, how are you doing today?"

I look at him with a raised eyebrow.

"Well", he says with a slightly somber tone, "considering your situation."

"My situation?", I snap, "Do you mean the fact that every single person that I knew is dead? The fact that I'm supposed to be dead? Or the fact that I'm being watched 24 hours a day?!"

He just looks at me with an impassive face. Damn, that came out of nowhere. I didn't realize that I was so emotional.

"Sorry", I start, "it's just a lot to take in. I mean, just look around you" I wave my hands around "This is, well, I feel as if I'm in a science-fiction movie. And the fact that there's aliens. _Aliens_! In my time, that was a friggin' meme for crying out loud!"

Well, if I was being completely honest this didn't so much remind me of a movie as it reminded me of a video game. The kind that I played on my laptop and that should've stayed on my laptop. Damn, it still feels surreal.

Major Albertini, that was the Italian guys rank and name I learned, nodded his head. "For once I know what you mean", he says, "I had just been promoted to 1st Lieutenant when the news hit of an alien invasion of Shanxi. We all knew that aliens existed thanks to the martian ruins, but it's something completely different knowing that there were living, breathing aliens." Albertini chuckles. "Well", he adds, "at that point in time we didn't even know that they were also capable of breathing, but we knew that they were alive."

I let out a laugh at that. Forgotten was my outburst from before. "Come", he says, "I'm hungry and I have some important news that I need to discuss with you at lunch." With that, we make our way to the mess hall.

* * *

Considering the fact that I was stuck in a classified Alliance base, the mess hall was really large. There were enough tables to comfortably feed 300 men and women at the same time, and considering that every time I ate there the place was crowded meant that this was a large base. Today was no different, and we had to wait in line for quite a bit before getting our meal. Carrying our tray, we sit down at a slightly secluded table, away from the rest. We start eating our food, apparently some kind of vat-grown steak and rice, and soon enough my curiosity gets a hold of me.

"So, what's this news you've got for me?", I ask Albertini.

"Well, actually I've got more than one thing I'd like to talk about.", he answers while wiping some sauce off his chin. "First of all, we've come to the conclusion that you're not a threat to our security, which is why there aren't any operatives watching you."

I look around and sure enough, there weren't any of the suspiciously inconspicuous men that followed me whenever I was outside of my room.

"Finally some privacy", I mutter.

Albertini smiles a bit at that and continues. "Secondly, we have created a profile for you."

With that he pulls out a datapad and hands it to me. I turn it on and can't believe what I'm seeing.

"This is the new you", Albertini says, "With this you can live whatever life you want to live. Of course, your cannot tell anyone about your actual past, which is why we've tried to keep things as close to your real past to minimize the possibility of any accidental reveals, but you are free to change things if you want to."

I'm absolutely stunned at this. It's not as if they've just taken a half an hour to craft a rough outline, they went all in. Birth certificates (apparently I was now born on the 5th of May, 2153), school certificates, tax records, medical records, everything that makes me a legal resident of the Systems Alliance with a normal, real background. "Wow, I, I don't know what to say", I manage to stammer.

"Well, we just took advantage of our witness protection system and modified a few parameters. Truthfully, a computer did more work than I did, so this wasn't a big deal to make", Albertini answered lightheartedly. His face turned more serious, "However there's one category that we need your input on."

He points at where my name is written. My eyes follow his finger and instead of reading my name, Matthew Hartman, the datapad reads ' _John Smith_ '.

"You see, we have to change your name so that nobody finds a picture with your name on it from 150 years ago and notices that the guy next door has the same name and looks. That would lead to a few awkward questions, to say the least, and it would just shine attention on you.", he says. "I've gone ahead and filled in the most common human name in the galaxy, but you can change it to anything you want. It is your name, after all."

I stare at the name. _John Smith_. For some reason I recall a memory from long ago.

 _"Well students, you all know the man who discovered the American continent, Christopher Columbus", my history teacher says, "Today however we won't be looking at him, well rather take a look at John Smith. This adventurer was a founder of Jamestown, the first English settlement in the new world. A man who started anew in a new world. Now, would you please open your books at..."_

Hmm, 'started anew in a new world'. And here I am, in a new galaxy and I just got handed a blank check to a new start. It somehow fits my situation perfectly, if I'm completely honest. "No, no, I quite like it", I say after staring at the name for a few seconds, "I'd like to keep it."

Albertini looks at me with a raised eyebrow. Yeah, he probably didn't expect me to go with the most generic name. "Are you sure? Once I confirm this there's no going back. I can't just hand you a new identity, you know."

Well, no going back now. This somehow feels eerily like a character creation screen in every RPG ever. "Thanks for the concern, Major, but I'm sure about this." I assure him.

He looks at me for a while, before nodding. "Alright, well, that's that." Taking back the datapad, he types something and puts it back in his pocket. "A pleasure meeting you, Mister Smith.", he says with a smile.

I laugh and shake his hand. Turning serious again, he pulls out another pad. "Well, with that done there's only one thing left; getting you a job. However, before I give you this datapad with potential matches", he places a hand on the pad, "I'd like to make a proposal to you."

Huh, this sounds interesting. And it somehow feels like something from a gangster movie, when the mafia boss cuts a deal with somebody. "Alright, I'm listening", I say.

"I want you to join Naval Intelligence."

Wow. I did not expect to hear _that_. Apparently my body language told the same thing, because Albertini quickly added, "Now before you go ahead and tell me I'm crazy, at least hear me out."

"Well, you've caught me off guard", I admit, "so go ahead, I'd like to know why you want me as a spy."

"To be fair", he starts, "I don't want you as a spy. You see, NavInt is structured into different divisions. There's the intelligence and counter-intelligence divisions, which truthfully is full of spies and are the biggest two divisions, but there's a lot of others", he says while pulling out _another_ datapad. Damn, this guy must have a thousand hidden pockets filled with datapads with this rate. "Specifically, I want you for our Special Operations Division."

"Hold on a second", I interrupt, "I'm pretty sure you know this since you read my files, but last time I checked I was just a normal infantryman, not some SpecOps badass. Hell, with the genetic enhancements an Alliance soldier gets, some green recruit would have better requirements than I do. Why in gods name would you want _me_ in _that_ division of all places?"

"Three reasons: Number one, you are a soldier. Sure, you didn't exactly volunteer for it, but nevertheless it's what you've learned to do, it's your job."

"Yeah, well, I didn't plan on stay-" I try to say but Albertini cuts me off. "Like I said, I've got three reasons so I ain't done yet. Number two, almost every report I've read about you mentioned, in one way or the other, you're excellent leadership skills. Sure, your shooting is just average, your physical scores also aren't mind-boggling high and you've got a lazy streak in you-"

Well gee, thanks for shattering my self-consciousness. Bastard.

"-but those are things that you can change with training and hard work. Leadership however is a skill that's very difficult to learn in my experience, and that's something you excel at."

Huh, he actually made me feel a bit special. Now I feel bad for calling him a bastard in my thoughts.

Okay, maybe not.

"And number three, we can easily keep an eye on you. Even though you're officially a normal, average citizen of the Systems Alliance now, we both know that's not the actual truth. So, if you're working with us, we don't need to waste resources on observing you and you get actual privacy from us. It would be a win-win for both of us." He leans back in his chair. "And don't you worry about genetic enhancements, we have plenty of experience in that area. So what do you say", he asks, "do you want to join NavInt or do you want to make your own career?"

I look into the air thoughtfully. This is a damn tough decision. On the one hand it would be dangerous. Sure, Special Forces get the best toys and the best training, but they're also the ones doing the missions with low survival odds. And it would mean that I'd become a soldier for good, instead of the engineer I dreamed of becoming. On the other hand, it would be the best shot I've got to join Shepard when Eden Prime happ-

Shepard. Dear god, I haven't even thought of him. Or anything of that matter, if I'm honest. Hell, it could even be a her, I don't even know his/her gender. I haven't even thought about joining Shepard when Saren and Eden Prime happens. I mean, do I even want to join Shepard? It would mean going on an incredibly dangerous journey, fighting things that have been causing galactic genocide for millions of years, with the fate of every sentient being in the galaxy at stake.

...

Who am I kidding, of course I'd want to join Shepard. Only problem is, I'd have to be the best of the best to be of any use to the future first human spectre. And the only way I can see to be that is to accept Albertini's request.

Well, looks like I know what decision I'll be making..

"Alright", I slowly say, "I'll join."

"Excellent!", he exclaims, "Now for you information, even though you have military training you'll have to go through basic just like every other soldier, marine or sailor and rise through the ranks. A lot has changed in 150 years, and you have to relearn quite a few things as well as learning our standard procedures."

I frown. Going through basic training again wasn't really something that I was keen on doing, but I understood the reasons behind it. Not knowing procedures will get people killed in a firefight, and with Mass Effect technology firearms work much different than what I'm used to. Plus, climbing ranks was something that I already was familiar with. "Alright, that's fine. When am I being shipped off?"

Albertini activates his omni-tool and scrolls through different files. "Basic starts on July 1st, which means you've got 4 months to learn how to be a normal person. Basic will be in Camp Sandy for 7 weeks, afterwards you'll be sent to different places for specializations. I expect that you reach the requirements for special forces at the end."

Well, no pressure there, none at all. "Hey, what did you mean 'learn to be a normal person'?", I ask, slightly offended.

"Well, for starters you need your eyesight fixed. Nobody runs around wearing glasses anymore", he states. "Then we need to change your blood"

"Excuse me", I ask startled, " _Change_ my blood? How and why would you do that?"

"Well it's not so much changing as it's modifying. I mean, if someone took a blood sample of you right now, he'd see that you've been vaccinated against polio, tetanus and measles, just to name a few. Since those illnesses have all been eradicated for more than a 100 years now, it would raise some uncomfortable questions. Meanwhile you lack vaccinations that have been mandatory since we've been colonizing other planets. In a nutshell, your body just isn't a body of the 22nd century. As for how we'd do that, well, you'd have to ask a doctor."

Holy hell, that's a lot of thought he's put into this thing. And hearing that most illnesses have been eradicated is a nice thought.

"Anyway, back to the original topic, you also have to learn how to handle everyday modern technology such as omni-tools", he waives his around, "terminals and other. They're not complicated, but again it would raise a few red flags if you went into basic without knowing how to handle them."

Albertini pauses, and looks as if he's deciding to say something more. After a while, he apparently decides to talk and adds: "Oh and if you want, we can give you the genetic enhancements right now. That way, by the time you enlist, they've had a while to unfold their effects and you've got a better chance at reaching your goal. But like I said, that's just if you want."

"If it gives me an edge, I'll gladly take it now", I say. As if I'd not want to have an advantage in boot camp. Images of me nearly collapsing of exhaustion during PT flash through my brain. Jup, I'm definitely sure I want that stuff.

"Great, I'll make sure that the procedure is ready as soon as possible. We don't want to keep you waiting now, do we?", he adds with a wink.

"Yeah, lets not." I reply.

Sometimes I just don't know what to think about him. In one moment he can be completely serious, where as in the next he can be making jokes and be a complete fool. To think that he was an intelligence officer with the rank of a Major just didn't fit. Hmm, maybe that's why he's an intelligence officer to begin with, because nobody would suspect him. I might also be overthinking things.

* * *

After that rather long talk, we finish eating our lunch before walking back to my room. He says a goodbye before hurrying off to wherever he was going. I however flopped on the bed and let my thoughts wander about. Pretty soon they were stuck at the Reapers.

I sigh. Of course I'd be thrown in a galaxy where in about a decade there's going to be a galaxy-wide extinction event. And it's not as if I'd have lived a nice, long life by then, hell I'd only be 32 by the time ME3 happens! These depressive thoughts linger for a while, but soon get replaced by determination. I already made my mind up to join Shepard, but I'll make sure that I'll be the most useful son-of-a-bitch on the team there is. As long as nobody finds out that I actually know the future, they'll trust me. I hope.

My mind wanders around a bit more, but soon I fall asleep.

* * *

Major Albertini walks into a smallish room filled with screens. A technician is watching the feeds that appear to be from a room with a single inhabitant. "What's he doing?", Albertini asks the technician.

"Well, he just laid down on his bed and seems to be thinking about something", he replied, "Other than that he's doing absolutely nothing."

The Major looks at the video feed intently. "There's something you aren't telling me", he murmurs. Ever since their first 'talk', he thought that the time-travelling man on the other side of the screen had something off about him. He first chalked it up to something psychological from waking up 150 years in the future, but after a few conversations with him his instincts told him that he was hiding something. And he knew from experience, his instincts rarely were wrong. Adressing the technician, he said: "Keep monitoring him Corporal, and report anything unusual to me immediately."

"Yes sir", came the reply, and Albertini walked out the door.

"Whatever your secret is, I'll find out sooner or later. You can be sure of that", he said to himself in a low voice.

* * *

 **Ooh, looks like Albertini suspects something! To be fair, he's a senior intelligence operative, they tend to be good at telling when people are hiding something.  
Like I said up top, chapters are coming in at least every 2 weeks, which is as fast as I can write them. As for the direction this fic will be taking, it will mainly be to build up the skills and reputation to join Shepard. Let's face it, he/she is the first human Spectre, and you can't be on such a team without having some serious skills. Will it be a FemShep or BroShep? That's classified for now, but John Smith will meet Shepard before ME1, you can count on that ;)**

 **Next chapter will be about the time between now and Boot Camp, and maybe I'll even squeeze in the first day of Basic training if I manage to write fast enough. Stay tuned, and keep on rockin'.**

 **Budget out.**


	5. Chapter 3

**Wooh! A new update! I hope you enjoy this one, because I sacrificed a few hours of sleep to get this done in time (well, 2 days late). Not the smartest decision in hindsight, because the next day my CO surprised us with a spontaneous training exercise. Yeah, fun times. Anyway, here we go!**

* * *

Thursday March 10th, 2174, 09:17  
Classified Alliance Base, Terra Nova

"Alright, now this will sting just a litt-"

"OW!"

There are some things in the universe that change over time. Technology advances, trends come and go, and stars explode. But then there are things that always stay the same. The speed of light, the amount of hours in a day, human stupidity, for example. Another thing that never changes is the fact that doctors _love_ stabbing people with sharp objects.

"Oh, don't be such a big baby, Smith, it was just a tiny poke. See, I'm already done."

I rum my right shoulder where I was just stabbed by a big damn needle. Just a tiny blood sample my ass, I wouldn't be surprised if that damn doctor was a vampire, judging by the size of that container filled with my red liquid. When I walked into the doctor's office this morning I didn't expect this at all. At least modern medicine worked fast, and I wasn't twiddling my thumbs while I was being sucked dry.

"I'm not a baby, Doctor Anwar, I'm a healthy, 20 year old man who just got stabbed. I've got a right to yell out in pain."

Apparently the good old doctor thought differently, because she shook her head and went to work with my sample. I took the pause in conversation to examine her more carefully. She appeared to be in her mid-sixties, a bit short, but what surprised me was that there wasn't a trace of gray in her brunette hair. Her skin-tone looks as if she's from the Middle-East, but her voice has a slight British accent. Still, she somehow reminded me of Chakwas, probably because of her accent. Well, that and the fact that they're both doctors. Hopefully Chakwas is not that sadistic when it comes to poking her patients, but with my luck she probably will be.

The doctor finished with my sample and pressed a button on the machine she was using. Satisfied with her work, she turned to face me. "Well, while the analyzer is doing its job we might as well use the time to go over the procedure for your genetic enhancements", she said.

"First off, you'll be getting the normal package to correct your nearsightedness. 20/20 vision is almost guaranteed, which means you wont be needing that bulky eye wear anymore"

"That's awesome", I reply happily. I've always hated the fact that I needed to wear glasses, and lenses never really appealed to me. But due to the fact that laser-surgery used to cost a fortune, I had to keep them anyway.

"The second package is something more special", she continued. "It's a discreet modification that will get rid of any allergies you might have, boost your muscle growth rate by a noticeable amount, make it easier to improve your stamina and enhance your reflexes slightly."

Wow, that sounds almost too good to be true.

"It will _not_ however improve anything on its own, apart from the reflexes. That means you will have to do a lot of intense physical training to see the effects. Also, genetic therapy in adults, even young ones as you, take a few years to fully get the rewards they offer. You're lucky that this one only takes about 4 months."

Ah, that's the catch. A uncomfortable thought springs into my mind.

"Uh, will it have any side effects if I get the military therapy later? Because if I recall correctly, it does pretty much the same thing, and I don't want to turn into some super-muscled mutant", I ask in an unsure voice. Becoming the hulk on steroids wasn't really that high on my to-do list.

"No, that's why I stated it was discreet. It is completely compatible with all other enhancements that we know of and is nearly invisible. You'll be able to freely enlist later, if you want to. And to be clear, while they both have similar effects, the military one is much more noticeable.", she replies.

Well, that's something I don't need to worry about in the future.

"Is there anything else you want to change with me, or is that it?", I ask.

"No, that would be all. Now if this machine would finish processing and analyzing your blood, I could tell you more about the changes needed in your blood chemistry."

As soon as she finished that sentence, the machine behind her gave a loud beep, and Doctor Anwar whirls around surprised. She mutters a quiet 'speak of the devil', and goes over the results. I can't see much since she's got her back towards me, but when she turns around again there's a big frown on her face. "Well, Major Albertini already warned me that there would be some anomalies in the blood scan, but I didn't think it would be this bad."

Well that just fills me with confidence. "I'd just like you to know, the last doctor that did a check-up on me found nothing out of the ordinary", I say, trying to lighten the mood.

"Then he should have his license revoked", she replied dryly. "This is going to take time creating a viable solution, so I think it would be best if we started with the enhancements today and bother us with the difficult stuff after. Now if you would lie down on the bed, I would start immediately."

I'll give her that, she worked _fast_. But since I didn't have anything other to do I couldn't really object. After all, the sooner I get that done, the sooner I can start preparing for Boot Camp. And as Albertini said a few days ago, I also had to learn how to use modern technology. Feels like being back in school again.

I lay down as instructed, my naked upper body feeling the cool mattress underneath. I still haven't put on my shirt from before she took the sample, and apparently I wasn't going to anytime soon. Doctor Anwar was suddenly on my left, and before I could focus what was in her hand she said: "Now, _this_ needle will hurt."

And with that, she plunged an injector into my left arm.

"OW", I screamed out almost instantly, "What the hell is wrong with you?"

The good old doctor merely shrugged her shoulders and replied: "You're the one who wanted gene-therapy, not me. Anyway, you should lie down and relax, the therapy gets to work almost instantly."

Hearing those words I try to feel if I notice anything wrong, but apart from a slightly warm sensation around where she jabbed that second god-forsaken needle in me I felt the same as before.

"Uh, you sure? I don't feel any different", I reply.

With a cheeky smile, she says: "Believe me, you will"

* * *

Sure enough, I did.

About 5 minutes later, the slight warm sensation spread to everywhere in my body. 15 minutes after that, the warm, almost comfortable sensation turned into the worst burning sensation I ever had. Everything felt on fire, and I was sweating buckets.

Now the way the gene mods worked was that they actually were a collection of specially engineered viruses that entered the cell and changed a few things, most notably a few select parts of the DNA. Sounds extremely interesting, but the side effect is that all of the antibodies in the blood stream fight the viruses. After all, that's the reason we have them in our bodies, to protect us from that kind of crap. Now, since I was changing my very DNA and every single cell in my body, _everything_ was a target for the anti-bodies. And while I did get immune suppressants, that still translated to the fever which made me feel on fire and sweat profusely.

It also meant that anything I ate pretty much got thrown up right away.

Had they told me that beforehand, I would have seriously weighted off the pros and cons of my decision to get gene mods.

Of course, I wasn't told. And if this was just the doctors appointment, I shudder thinking about what the rest of my civillian training will be like. Or Boot Camp.

Welcome to the Systems Alliance, I guess.

* * *

Wednesday March 30th, 2174, 15:33  
Classified Alliance Base, Terra Nova

"Goddamn it Smith, what the hell did you do to your tool?"

The last two weeks have been interesting. After getting my gene mods, which made me feel like crap for about 5 days, I finally got started with my so-called 'civilian-training'. That basically means learning new phrases, because of the fact that dialects have slightly shifted over the last 150 years, learning the alliance culture and learning how to use an omni-tool.

Which I was failing quite spectacularly right now.

"I don't know, I did everything you told me to!"

"Then why the hell is everything written in fucking Khelish? You had one job, and that was to open the damn extranet!"

Yeah, apparently I pressed a few wrong buttons and somehow the omni-tool configured itself for a quarian. Go me.

My 'teacher', for lack of a better word, was a guy named Service Chief Federico Murphy. I was told that he was actually the team leader of the squad that found me in that base. Since that squad knew who I really was they were one of the few people that were allowed to interact with me, and due to the fact that the Service Chief was apparently tech-savvy he was picked to teach me in that kind of stuff.

Which made him pissed off to be used as a 'babysitter', in his words.

He janked my arm to get a better view at my omni-tool, and pressed a few things. Sure enough, it almost instantly reverted back to English.

"Now watch again and do _exactly_ what I do", Murphy says and shows me how to open the extranet again. I make sure to copy his movements as exactly as possible, and a couple of seconds later I have an open extranet tab. But instead of letting me have this moment of accomplishment, Murphy has a better idea.

"Good, now for screwing up your tool get down and gimme 50."

And down I go and start doing my push-ups. That too is part of my 'school lessons', physical training. Something about making sure I had an edge in Basic, or something like that. Apparently the mods worked faster when you exercised your body hard. But to be honest, I don't really remember and all I care about right now was to finish these 50 reps.

"And for successfully opening the damn extranet you can do another 20, Smith!"

Scratch that, it's 70 reps now.

* * *

Tuesday June 14th, 2174, 11:05  
Scott, Capital of Terra Nova

3 and a half months. That's how long I've been here, in this new galaxy. Since getting here, I've received genetic modifications, learned how to handle an omni-tool, and know everything a normal Alliance civilian knows. Add to that physical training supervised by a Spec Ops operator. And now I was sitting in a chair, in the capital of Terra Nova, waiting for a particular person to come in.

The door opens and a middle-aged man in a dark-blue uniform steps into the room. "Good afternoon, Mister Smith", he says while stretching out his hand, "I'm Service Chief Barton" .

"Pleasure meeting you", I answer while shaking his hand and we both sit down at his desk, him being on the other side of it.

"Now, when you checked in at the front you were ready to sign a 5-year contract." He looks at me intently, "I appreciate the enthusiasm son, but that is a big commitment that you want to make there, and I want to make sure that you know what you're getting into and why you want to."

I suppressed a smile on my lips. I'm pretty sure I know what I'm getting myself into, after all I have been in the army already and lived on a secret army base the last third of a year. But this guy doesn't know that, and I actually appreciate him asking these kind of questions.

"Well, I want to join the military", I reply, "and If I'm going to do it, I might as well do it right."

"Not good enough", came the immediate reply.

"Excuse me?"

"Listen kid", he starts, "I've seen hundreds here come and go. Now I can tell that you know what the military is all about, but that reasoning, well, I need another one. A better one."

Huh, he takes his job seriously. Well, let's try something else.

"Sir, I love my personal freedom and I want to defend it from anyone trying to take it awa-"

"Not good enough"

What? That kind of stuff should get any volunteer officer, or NCO, a raging hard-on.

"Well, I also am a patriot and-"

"Stop feeding me with bullshit kid", came the voice of the chief, interrupting me again. "Like I said before, I've seen hundreds of people come and go. Those that spew some nice patriotic shit either never even enlist, or quit 2 weeks into boot camp. Now if you don't have an actual reason to join", he stands up and starts turning to the door, "then go home, forget about the military and stop wasting both of our time."

Oh crap, I'm running out of options fast. Think, _think_ you big stupid brain. Damn, he's almost at the door.

"I want to join because it's the only viable plan I've got", I let slip. The chief immediately stops, one hand on the door lock.

Well, fuck. Why did I have to go and say that out loud? I mean sure, the last quarter of a year I spent all of my time on getting in the military, and I don't have any alternative whatsoever. And military training will help me stop the reapers in a decade, where as me getting a freaking desk job won't. But I can't really say that to him now, can I?

"And why is that the only viable plan you've got?", asked the service chief.

"Because every other choice I have is shit", I admit. "I won't tell you why, but this is the only chance I've got to change something for the better."

I just let my pants down big time. Now all I can do is see if he kicks my balls or not.

The recruiter looks at me with a neutral face for what feels like an eternity. Finally, he slowly turns back towards the desk and sits down.

"And this is the reason why you want to join?", he asks seriously. "You think this", he taps his dark-purple Alliance beret, "is going to change something?"

"I do", I answer instantly.

He keeps looking at me, and slowly starts to nod. "Alright then", he says, "let's get you sorted out." And with that he opens a datapad with an important looking document on it. Holy crap, I did it!

"Last and first name?"

"Smith, John", I answer.

"Social Security Number?"

"756.1258.9253.167", I recall from the files given to me by Albertini.

"Date of Birth?"

"5th of May, 2153"

"Alright", he says after typing in the few answers I'd given him, "The next step is choosing your operational specialization. Now, since you've got no useful civillian skills such as a degree in engineering or other such talents, your options are quite limited. Also, keep in mind that you have to submit an alternative specialization in case you don't fulfill the minimum requirements for your primary pick, although that one is assigned automatically to you."

He slides me a datapad with a few highlighted words.

"The highlighted ones are the branches available for you."

I turn the pad around so that it's facing me and I see a chart titled _'Alliance Military Vocational Codes and Specializations'._ The codes range from A to Z, and my eyes momentarily stay glued to the letter N. Well, Shepard, looks like I know what you picked. My eyes go up one row and I finally see the letter I was looking for:

 _M: Special Operations._

With my finger I tap that letter, and instantly it's the only highlighted row on the datapad.

The recruiter takes the pad back and takes a look at it.

"Spec Ops? Interesting choice, and a demanding one. Although I'm required to ask, are you sure? The training is one of the most demanding, and most who pick this don't get the scores needed in basic training to enter."

He then quickly adds: "I don't want to stop you, I just want you to have a realistic view on things."

"Thanks, but I'm sure", I reply.

"Just making sure. Now, the alternative in case you don't pass is _B, Infantry_ , just so you know. Now, there's some more paperwork that has to be done..."

The next 15 minutes or so were me confirming a few things and giving him a few copies of my documents. Slowly but surely, the paperwork (apparently bureaucracy hasn't changed in the future) dwindled down until there was only one thing left.

"With the following signature you accept entering into a 5-year contract with the Systems Alliance Military. Your primary specialization will be M1, and should you fail to qualify for that you shall be transferred to B1." The recruiter hands me the datapad, and I quickly sign it.

"Congratulations", he says proudly after storing the pad, "Welcome to the Alliance Military, _Recruit_ "

Fuck. Yeah.

Let the games begin.

* * *

 _Codex: Systems Alliance Military Beret Color  
_

 _The Human Systems Alliance issues different colored berets to their personnel based on their specializations. This stems from a tradition dating back hundreds of years, the first example being the Scottish Blue Bonnet dated all the way into the 16th century of the human calendar. Although the vast majority of troops wear the same colors, there are a few specialized units that have a distinct color. The following are the colors and their meaning.  
_

 _\- Blue Grey: Navy Standard. This includes all personnel that have their post exclusively on a ship, for example pilots, navigators or naval engineers. The color represents the sky as seen from earth.  
_

 _\- Dark Blue: Marine Standard. This includes all personnel that are mainly ground-side, for example marines, armor or artillery crews. The color represents Earths oceans, because of marines being specialized for amphibious assault back when humans weren't a space-faring civilization._

 _\- Dark Purple: This color is used extensively for personnel in non-combat roles, for example logicians, chefs or public relations officers. It is unknown what this color represents. When a high-ranking officer was asked that question, he simply replied by saying 'it's that color, because it's that color. Don't question it.'_

 _\- Gray: This beret color is used for members of the military police. The color represents the impartial rule of law members of this branch have to uphold. Unofficially, it is known by personnel as the color for rats, due to the fact that they have to arrest their fellow servicemen and -women._

 _-Black: Used exclusively for the Intelligence and Special Operations branches of the Alliance. The color represents the tough choices members of these divisions have to make on missions, and the close working relationship the two branches have. Unofficially there are people who see the color black as a metaphor for the morally questionable missions they often undertake.  
_

 _\- Red: Used solely by the Alliances famous N-troops. These Special Forces are famous for the rigorous training and extreme dropout rate, as well as being the absolute best Humanity can offer. The color represents the blood and sacrifice of their fallen comrades.  
_

* * *

 **Shoutout to Lanilen and his awesome story 'My Effect: Divergence' for the idea on the gene-mod viruses. I take absolutely no credit for that idea. I do however take credit for the beret colour definition, although I was somewhat inspired by the real world while keeping it as close to the games as possible.  
**

 **Also sorry for the 2 day delay, this was the fastest I could pump this out.**

 **Please don't forget to fav, follow and review, it helps me immensely!**

 **So, until the next fortnight (I think that's the correct term for 14 days), bye y'all!**


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